


When the Rain Falls

by thepainlesstruth (orphan_account)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Older!Eren, kind of sad in beginning sry, orphan!levi, streetrat!levi, tags/rating/warnings will change as story progresses, tw: slight gore/violence in beginning, when the rain falls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 17:18:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5013247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thepainlesstruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Doesn’t it hurt?” I murmur, dazed. <br/>“What?” The man in front of me blinks, taken aback by my question. <br/>“How did you get emeralds sewn into your eye sockets?”<br/>//Street brat Levi gets taken under the wing of an older Eren//</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Rain Falls

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this prologue a few months ago; i'm not quite sure if i will continue it or just leave it unfinished. anyways please enjoy and helpful comments are always appreciated:) happy friday:)

“Hey, what’re you doing—wait, come back!”

I take off down the crowded street without a second look. I don’t know if anyone is chasing me, but with the wallet clutched tightly in my sweaty palms, I cannot afford to look back.  

_Don’t get caught, don’t get caught—_

I’m a mad bullet; shadowing through the grimy back alleys and dodging my way past the odd stranger.

Only the rushing wind whistles secrets into my ears.

I slip in an unknown substance— _stupid, why didn’t I see that_ —but it doesn’t bother me; I just keep running, running, running.

After all, pushing myself to the point of utter exhaustion is one of my greatest traits.

My feet pound a rhythm into the worn pavement as I pass a countless number of buildings—all ruined and cracking under the weight of the atmosphere.

At last, I slow to a stop in front of a small crack in the wall. Hidden by nearby dumpsters and haphazardly arranged cardboard boxes, the jagged triangle runs from the cement floor to about two-thirds of the way up. It’s big enough to accommodate my thin bones, but small enough for others to accidently ignore. 

I look around, making sure I wasn’t trailed, then slip quickly between the wet, crumbling bricks. I notice I have to crouch a little to fit my head; and even then, the sharp edges of the wall press painfully into the sides of my skull.

I realize with a sickening pang that I might not be able to fit anymore after a few months.

When I emerge to the other side, I sigh with relief and dust my hands off. Home welcomes me; with its cramped living space and damp cardboard acting as a makeshift roof.

“Levi-bro!” A mess of redheaded pigtails runs into my chest, making me stumble. I grab onto Isabel’s shoulders, steadying us.

“How is Farlan doing?” I ask, scanning the small area for his figure. There weren’t any places to hide, really—three big steps and you were already at the opposite end of the enclosure.

Isabel sounds hesitant when she answers. “His leg is still bothering him. Levi, we need to take him to the hospital!”

I shake my head, water droplets dripping from my black fringe. “You know we can’t do that. The police would find us immediately.”

Isabel hangs her head sadly, dejected but seemingly deep in thought. “But...infection,” she whispers after a moment.

“What?” My eyes widen. Tipping her chin up, I almost gasp at her swollen, red eyes.

I let go of her face abruptly and push past her. “Where is he.” I can’t think right now. _Infection. Infection. Infection._

“He left.” Her voice is barely above an exhale. “I was sleeping. And all of his belongings and clothes are gone. He probably thought he was a burden.”

I clench my hands into fists, dropping the forgotten wallet in the process. It splashes into a puddle of murky rainwater, splattering my dark jeans and worn-out boots.

“Stay. Here. Don’t follow me.” I see the determination and resistance burning in her throat, and before she argues back, I hold up a hand. “I’m going to bring Farlan back myself. You’ll just get in the way.”

Isabel’s pupils widen in hurt. “You talk like I’m useless! It’s my fault for letting Farlan escape, and you won’t even let me help?”

I rub my forehead in frustration. “You talk about Farlan as if he’s a convict. A prisoner. You know what; he can leave if he wants to. I’m not going to force him to come back.”

Isabel gasps. “How can you be so heartless? This is _Farlan_ , not some random guy on the street! Levi-bro!”

I shake my head roughly. “Just-just stay here. I’ll be back soon.” With that, I duck out of our little shelter.

I look towards the sky for guidance. The light dusting of rain earlier was a promise for more—and here it was. The clouds tremble in anticipation, and the sun had disappeared for good.

I decide that Farlan couldn’t have gone far with that dead leg of his, and so I head west. Farlan once told me his favorite direction was westwards, anyways. West meant the rich, milk-and-honey lands of California and the Pacific Ocean.

I jog lightly through the streets, calling out Farlan’s name. The sky has started to cry out its sorrow; fat droplets of rain slide down my nose bridge to hide in the corners of my lips.

“Farlan! Farlan!” Every time I see a lump huddled in the side of the alley my heart jumps—but then I recall that _no, Farlan doesn’t have a beard,_ or, _not him; Farlan doesn’t smoke_.

I don’t know how long it’s been; maybe only ten minutes, maybe an hour, maybe three hours. Time isn’t a very relevant thing to me right now.

My stomach growls in hunger, and I remember that it’s been two days since I’ve eaten. All of our skimpy meals went to Farlan, to help his leg heal faster.

My head feels woozy and the adrenaline from the escape is wearing off. I have to focus more on not stumbling over the cracks in the pavement instead of searching for Farlan.

But giving up is not an option, so I swallow my overexerting lungs and raise my tired voice. I reach the end of the alley, so I turn right and follow the wall out into the street, where faceless people holding bland umbrellas walk past one another, oblivious to the panic I am feeling.

Suddenly, a hand encircles my wrist.

“You! Give me my wallet back!” Startled, I look up into bright green eyes. Although they’re narrowed and squinty from anger and annoyance, the very color engulfs me. I’m momentarily both stunned and stricken.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” I murmur, dazed.

“What?” The man in front of me blinks, taken aback by my question.

“How did you get emeralds sewn into your eye sockets?”

Silence follows; neither of us know how to respond.

My eye catches a glimpse of ashy blond hair off to the right— _there! Limping across the street!_

The trance is shattered and I pull my wrist from his weakened grasp. I twist under his still outstretched arm and then sprint towards the crowd crossing the crosswalk.

I shove away the people standing in my way; unheeding to their glares and insults.

Only the stragglers are left making the last few steps across the road. Except for Farlan. His lame leg is dragging uselessly behind him as he struggles to get to the other side. As I get closer, I can see the pain etched into his still childish features.

The blinking red hand is counting down the seconds: _4, 3, 2, 1…_

I can’t make it. I’m too late.

Instead, I yell out his name. I don’t know why I do; maybe I’m hoping God will hear. _My first and final prayer to an unknown god._

" _FARLAN!”_

It echoes emptily across the crosswalk, but somehow it reaches his ears. He whirls around, and his eyes brighten in recognition and fear. _He doesn’t want to come back._

This is my last thought before a truck runs into him.

I hear a pained intake of air, and then I feel someone push past me.

From the corner of my eye, I see a flash of red hair undone from once neat pigtails.

And as soon as a far-too-willing foot steps onto the dull white of the crosswalk, my whole world slows. All sound stops. My vision blurs, and the next thing I know, I’m collapsed on the sidewalk, staring at scattered body parts and stained asphalt. _I don’t understand._

Already policemen and the ambulance are arriving, setting up caution tape around the entire block.

I stumble to my feet and lurch forward. My foot hits something light. I turn it over to face me with the tip of my boot.

_Isabel._

The truth hits me like a flood and I fall to my knees, shocked to the core. My eyes stare blankly ahead; unbelieving, unrelenting, unaffected.

_Isabel._

_Isabel._

_Isabel._

_Farlan._

The rain chooses to fall harder at that exact moment, and it starts to wash the blood away. It drips, drips, drips down into the sewage, the same sewer water that will be recycled to sprinkle middle-aged women’s front yards.

Bile rises at the thought; the thought of their blood being _everywhere,_ and I dry-heave onto the road next to me. Spit trickles down the side of my chin, and I no longer know which is rain or tears or my own saliva.

A shadow looms over me and I look up from where I am kneeling on the ground.

My heart drops into my stomach. _Police officers._

He leans down to peer closely into my face. I duck my head, but not soon enough.

“Hey. Have I seen you somewhere?” The gruff voice asks.

I shake my head rapidly, still facing the gravel.

I sense a hand come down to grab my shirt and pull me up, so I tense my leg muscles and get ready to run.

But the inevitable grasp never comes.

“Oh, there you are!” An oddly cheerful voice enters the scene. The sudden brightness contrasts so sharply against my horror that I get mental whiplash.

A man crouches down in front of me. It’s the same man from before; the one with the emerald eyes.

The man squints up at the police officer, shielding his eyes from the onslaught of cold wind and rain. “I’m sorry, sir. My younger brother has a tendency to get lost in busy places like this. He has ADHD, you know.” He stands back up and holds out a hand. “Let’s go, Daniel.”

Anything is better than being caught by the law, so I hurriedly grab his fingers and timidly rise, acting shy and innocent.

The police man gives us a suspicious once-over, but then his walkie-talkie crackles to life. With another dubious glance, he walks away, leaving us unattended.

“Let’s go!” The man half-whispers, then takes off, dragging me behind him.

I quickly regain my footing, enough to keep up with him, but I don’t let go of his warm hand.

I wouldn’t know where to go.

So, lost and cold and numb, I allow the green-eyed stranger to lead me back into the depths of the blind crowd.


End file.
